


you look so pretty when you beg

by byakuyakuchiki



Series: Kinktober 2018 [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Begging, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 16:04:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byakuyakuchiki/pseuds/byakuyakuchiki
Summary: grimmjow just wants to touch ulquiorra but he has to work for it.





	you look so pretty when you beg

No matter how much he wills his fingers to move from where he obediently curled them around the bars in the headboard at the beginning of this little game, Grimmjow’s hands refuse to cooperate. When Ulquiorra stretched him out on the bed as soon as he was undressed and told him to keep his hands on the headboard and not to touch, Grimmjow was content to do as he was told and lie back, letting Ulquiorra do as he pleased to him. As much as he enjoys pleasing Ulquiorra, his ego is always fanned when the roles reverse and Ulquiorra’s hands are on him.

It surprises him, not even fifteen minutes later, when the urge to touch Ulquiorra rises up within him. To run his fingers over that soft pale skin, tracing the lines of Ulquiorra’s muscles beneath the lily white until Ulquiorra’s eyes fluttered shut and he surrendered himself to Grimmjow’s incessant need to touch him and please him and do everything he could to bring him pleasure.

Their relationship was built on that odd foundation. Ulquiorra was the one who approached him first, brimming with curiosity and certain Grimmjow would be willing to answer his questions and satisfy his interests. He had, for what it was worth, letting Ulquiorra touch him until his mind was soft and fuzzy and the rest of the world no longer felt real, like his body and his conscious mind were connected only by a thread wound between Ulquiorra’s slender fingers. It was when Ulquiorra asked Grimmjow if he wanted to touch in return that the dangerous addiction to the smaller Arrancar began, and nothing has changed in that respect.

“Quiorra.” Grimmjow clears his throat and flexes the muscles in his forearms, telling himself to stop being stupid and just  _ touch _ Ulquiorra. When his hands still refuse to move, his stomach kicks in panic. “Did you bind my hands to the fucking headboard or something?”

Ulquiorra, perched carefully across his hips with his fingers pressed into the edge of Grimmjow’s Hollow hole, cocks his head at him. As always, his stoic expression frustrates Grimmjow who feels everything with a blinding intensity he has never been able to escape. “No, I merely asked you to hold onto the headboard. Why? Are you unable to move your hands?”

“I— I can’t,” Grimmjow confesses, and it feels vulnerable and foolish to say such a thing. “I was going to touch you, but I… My hands aren’t listening to me.”

“Ah.” The corner of Ulquiorra’s mouth twitches and Grimmjow wants to pin Ulquiorra beneath him even though he knows, as Cuatro, that Ulquiorra can defeat him. “Perhaps they are listening to me, then. I did not tell you that you could move your hands, did I?”

The question throws Grimmjow for a loop and he wants to snort at the thought, but the sinking realization sets in and he swears. “You motherfucker. You knew I wouldn’t—”

“Aizen-sama informed me that as we continued to play these games, your body might betray you at your own insistence to learn my command instead.” Ulquiorra slips his hand further into Grimmjow’s hole, and Grimmjow’s legs jolt at the intimate and gentle press of Ulquiorra’s fingers. “You could disobey if you truly wanted to, I am sure. But you do not.”

The truth in the statement rings clear between Grimmjow’s ears because Ulquiorra will stop touching him if he disobeys. He might get to touch Ulquiorra, might even get to make him come, and Ulquiorra wouldn’t  _ stop _ Grimmjow if he rutted himself against Ulquiorra’s hip until he fell apart, but it wouldn’t be the same. Though Ulquiorra has never been cruel to him, the only rule between the two of them is that Grimmjow must obey to get what he wants.

Orgasm would be cheap without Ulquiorra’s hands on his body, Ulquiorra’s touch that has learned to pick him apart until he’s vulnerable and trembling and hopelessly bare in front of him in an intimate way that being naked is not comparable to. It’s why, after the first time, Grimmjow kept coming back even though it was easy to find anyone else to sate his pleasure with.

“You want to touch me.” Ulquiorra hums down at him, his head leaning down just enough that a few strands of ink black hair slip over his shoulder, whispering against his cheek.

Grimmjow grits his teeth at the words, nodding furiously. “Just… just let me—”

“I do not see the purpose of that.” Ulquiorra traces the inside of Grimmjow’s hole and a choked little noise slips past his lips. “I am content with just this for now.”

“You’re an idiot.” Grimmjow could manhandle him, flex his physical strength just to get his hands on Ulquiorra’s much smaller body. “Quiorra, I’m begging you—”

Ulquiorra cuts him off immediately. “Then beg properly, Grimmjow, and I will consider it.”

“You’re kidding me.” But he’s not; Grimmjow can see the resolve in his beautiful emerald eyes even as his fingers continue their expedition. “Fine. Please let me touch you.”

“You can do better than that. I know you can.” Ulquiorra’s thumb brushes over the toned muscle of Grimmjow’s stomach right on the edge of his hole; his other hand drifts up, tucking his hair back behind his ear in one graceful motion.

There is nothing inherently sexual about their Hollow holes but Ulquiorra’s laser focus and the gentle pressure of his fingers makes Grimmjow’s gut twist just the same. “Puh-please, Quiorra. I want to touch you. Please let me touch you.  _ Please. _ ”

“Why should I?” Ulquiorra runs the tips of his fingers over the edge of Grimmjow’s hole before his fingers skip down to the top of his pants, still in place. “I’m content as is.”

Grimmjow hisses when Ulquiorra tugs the top of his pants down but not far enough, thumb brushing along the line of his Adonis belt. “I want to touch you—”

“I am well aware. Why?” Ulquiorra looks at him, his eyes pinning Grimmjow in place.

“I j-just want to. Please.” Grimmjow’s fingers dig into the headboard just the same and he swears when Ulquiorra tugs his pants down around his thighs, a hand wrapping around his cock as soon as it’s free. “Fuck, I just want to run my hands over your b-body.”

Ulquiorra licks his lips and Grimmjow’s cock throbs in his hand. “Do you want to please me?”

“Yes. Please, yes.” Grimmjow has an image of it in his head, Ulquiorra flushed sweet pink with Grimmjow’s hands on him, finding all of those soft and sensitive places he’s learned so well. “Let me please you, let me make you co—”

“Why should I? I am in no hurry.” Ulquiorra’s lips twitch again and he strokes Grimmjow’s cock with slow and fluid movements, fingers curling to fit the shape of him perfectly.

Anyone else would have shut up and let Ulquiorra jerk them off, and Grimmjow toys with the idea. There’s something about watching Ulquiorra’s face in a moment like this, lips pressed together as he focuses on Grimmjow’s cock. The size difference between them is pronounced even now, Ulquiorra’s hands smaller than Grimmjow’s own— And Ulquiorra must be reading his mind because he shifts one hand up so he can use both, choking a moan from Grimmjow’s throat as he twists a hand in one direction and the other hand in the opposite one.

His tongue lolls out of his mouth for a moment while Ulquiorra works his hands but then he shakes himself, his knuckles aching. “Please let me t-touch you.”

“You still persist.” Ulquiorra runs the pad of his thumb over the head of Grimmjow’s cock, smearing pre-come over his hot skin. “I was not expecting that.”

How the fuck can Grimmjow explain that he didn’t expect it either? But his desire to let Ulquiorra jerk him off until he can’t feel his bones anymore is less important than touching him right now. “Please,” he says, disgusted at how pitiful his voice sounds. “Please, I want to feel you.”

“You can feel my hands on your body, can you not?” Ulquiorra twists his hands again to make a point and Grimmjow makes a strangled noise. “You are enjoying my touch as well.”

“S’good.” Grimmjow squirms. He wants to fuck up into Ulquiorra’s hands but he wants to touch him more. “Puh-please let me touch you. I w-want to so bad, please,  _ please _ .”

Ulquiorra ignores him, hands working in a tandem rhythm that threatens to tear Grimmjow apart, his feet kicking against the mattress beneath him. Grimmjow’s speech pattern breaks, growing steadily more frantic and desperate even as his voice trembles and his words dissolve on his tongue, his body desperate to rock up into Ulquiorra’s hands. The slow touches and curious brushes of fingers have build up to this, Ulquiorra stroking his cock with a steady sureness that wasn’t there until now, as if he saved it for just this moment. Slow presses of fingers into Grimmjow’s back before strong hands shove him right over the edge, a sudden and abrupt shift he wasn’t ready for at the worst possible moment.

“You’re close.” Ulquiorra looks up at him, and though his voice is steady and his face is still smooth and relaxed, Grimmjow can see the blaze in his eyes, the fire burning beneath the rich green. “Do you still wish to touch me even when I am so close to bringing you, Grimmjow?”

It takes a minute for Grimmjow to suck in enough oxygen and compose himself, and even then, his voice comes out strained and weak. “Please  _ please _ I want to touch you so bad. I’m begging you to let me touch you,  _ please please please— _ ”

Ulquiorra chuckles and the sound raises goosebumps across Grimmjow’s skin; he can see the open amusement dancing in Ulquiorra’s eyes and now, finally, his expression shifts. Smooth pale lips pull out in a slow smirk and Grimmjow thrashes beneath him, fucking up into his hands at the same time. Having Ulquiorra look at him like that is like an aphrodisiac, stroking his ego in a way nothing else can because  _ he _ was the one to get this reaction out of him.

No one else. Just him. Just Grimmjow.

“I will give you a choice, then.” Ulquiorra’s hands still work him, slower now, the motion almost hypnotic, keeping him just from slipping over the edge. “You can touch me if you please—”

“Yes!” Grimmjow’s hands loosen around the bars. “I just want—”

“Stop.” The edge in Ulquiorra’s voice is a warning, and Grimmjow’s hands tighten once more around the bars as a whine rips through his throat. “You can touch me if you please, or I can bring you with my hands right now. If you touch me, you do not get to come.”

Of course,  _ of course _ it builds to this question. Ulquiorra’s hands refuse to stop moving, teasing him, the promise of an orgasm right there as Ulquiorra’s fingers tease him and nudge him closer to completion. It makes it impossible to consider, impossible to choose. He’d thought to himself earlier that orgasm wouldn’t mean anything if Ulquiorra didn’t make him come and he had to  _ obey _ but Ulquiorra is dangling what he actually wants in front of his face so cruelly.

Grimmjow bites down on his lip so hard it almost bleeds. “I— I want…”

“What, Grimmjow?” Ulquiorra cocks his head at him, hair whispering across his face.

It’s not a difficult choice, really.

Grimmjow lets go of the headboard and his hands are moving before he can stop them, brushing Ulquiorra’s hair back out of his face, cupping his face to bring him down for a kiss. The moment his fingers touch Ulquiorra’s face, Ulquiorra’s fingers are off of his cock but he doesn’t  _ care, _ pulling Ulquiorra down on top of him, hands sweeping down the expanse of his back, fingers teasing the edge of his Hollow hole as he kisses him. He sucks on Ulquiorra’s tongue and his cock jumps when Ulquiorra moans softly against his mouth, sooty eyelashes resting on his porcelain cheeks as he gives himself to the kiss, to Grimmjow.

Orgasm wouldn’t feel as good without Ulquiorra’s hands on him but that’s secondary to this, to the greedy way Grimmjow digs his fingers into Ulquiorra’s skin, rutting up against his thigh until Ulquiorra squirms and flushes and stutters above him.

It’s not a hard choice to make at all.


End file.
